


Beautiful Machine

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Atomic Blonde (2017)
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Guns, Intimacy, Scars, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: Delphine's never known anyone really dangerous before.





	Beautiful Machine

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to examine the relationship from Delphine's side this time.

It was the gun in her face, to the side of her head, that got Delphine's full attention.

She'd been thinking of it as a lark when she first got to Berlin, that international espionage would be fun and exciting. She grew up in Bordeaux and was living in Paris when, on a whim, she applied with a government office for a job as a courier. There were hoops to jump through, tests and examinations and several drug screenings, but Delphine was an intelligent, clever young woman who could think on her feet. At the end of he probationary period, she was told to report to a handler for her first assignment. Something important was happening in Germany, and she'd never been there before anyway.

But Berlin was cold and dirty, and every mention of the Wall left an unspoken tension in the air. Most of the intelligence agencies in the world were monitoring the situation, both France's allies and enemies. Delphine kept her eyes open and her mouth shut, because she didn't like the city or the feeling that she was occupying space in a powder keg. A keg that was waiting for just the right spark.

She saw Lorraine before Lorraine saw her, and she deliberately introduced herself because the older woman gave her a jolt, reminded her that she'd taken up this job because she was bored and wanted to do something interesting. In a place so chilly, Lorraine stood out like a bonfire, even from a distance. Infatuation struck like a fever, and she'd been foolish enough to take that, _her_ , as part of the game.

"Why the gun, Delphine?"

The barrel of her own gun, the bore of it, seemed larger than ever, and so she'd told the truth; that she was worried and scared, and not just because of the rumors of agents being killed. The entire city felt _wrong_ , the atmosphere heavy with something like electricity but less palpable. She told the truth because she didn't want to die, for Lorraine to shoot her right there, and being able to see the coldness under the heat convinced her it could happen.

And because she was wetter than she'd ever been in her life. Her underwear had gotten damp the second Lorraine pinned her against the wall, the combination of all that hot and all that ice coming to bear. Delphine's breath had shortened, her nipples tightening painfully inside her bra, and maybe that was why Lorraine changed whatever script she'd been working on, turned her around and slipped a dexterous hand up her skirt.

In the morning, just past dawn, Delphine had woken up to find herself alone in the bed. A thin slice of sunlight had just begun to peek over the horizon, and she gathered her thoughts for several minutes. They'd gone back to Lorraine's hotel, and their clothes were scattered all over the floor. Her gun was on the dresser, Lorraine's holster was draped over the back of a chair. It was empty. Delphine turned on the lamp on the nightstand, then turned it off again. Dark always seemed to suit Berlin more than light, even artificial light.

"You take your gun into the bathroom?"

"Not always."

Delphine hovered in the hallway, Lorraine's cool stare wandering over her for a moment before re-directing towards the bathtub. The basin was half-filled with water. The gun was on the counter next to the sink. Lorraine carried a Walther, in contrast to Delphine's M9 Beretta. And somehow in all the groping, she hadn't actually gotten a chance to really _look_ at the other woman. But the fluorescent light was on in here.

There was a whitish scar on Lorraine's abdomen, and when Delphine shifted to stand closer there was another one on her left bicep. And really, she should have known. A woman who could turn an attempt at a make-out session into a borderline death threat had been at this for a long time. The tile was cold under her bare feet.

Lorraine twitched to the left when Delphine's hand grazed her back, almost lost her balance on the edge of the tub. "What?"

"I just..."

She got a warning look as the sentence trailed off, bit her lower lip. It shouldn't have embarrassing, since she was standing there bare-assed, and since they'd spent most of the night thrashing around in the dark. But everything was different in the light, especially in a place like this.

She crouched down next to the tub, brushed her mouth over Lorraine's upper arm. The scar was old, fully healed. Delphine wondered where it had come from. The other agent twitched again. They were on eye level now, and Lorraine gave her a look that said, _You're the last person I would have expected that from._

"Look at you. Not a mark on you."

Delphine smiled, lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Scars are a sign of strength," she said, and Lorraine swirled her fingers under the water''s surface. Her wet hand lifted, touched the inside of Delphine's thigh.

"Don't play a game with me."

"Would I do that? You're the one with the gun."

Lorraine snorted, but it wasn't entirely a relaxed sound. Delphine was feeling nervy, though, even a little impudent. "Pleasure is in the little details, right?"

A minute or two later, Lorraine was up on the counter and Delphine's mouth was on her belly. It shouldn't have been as intimate as it was, but she could feel the quiver in Lorraine's thighs and stomach muscles, a tension that had nothing to do with simple arousal. She was muscle and sinew and bone, but when Delphine's lips fluttered over the mark, her hands latched more tightly on her shoulders. Dark eyes rolled up, towards a face that was more taut than usual. Her knees were starting to protest the crouch, but the smell and taste of skin was worth the complaining.

"You're a beautiful machine, Lorraine."

It seemed to calm something between them, though later Delphine would wonder if 'machine' had been the right word. Because there _was_ warmth underneath the marine layer of icy control. You just had to look for it. 

And brave the heat once you found it.


End file.
